


Logince hanahaki

by chemically_imbalanced_romance



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Unrequited Love, Vomiting, Worship, definitely what i would call a sad ending but ig it's up for debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-11-15 10:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemically_imbalanced_romance/pseuds/chemically_imbalanced_romance
Summary: Logan worships Roman, and it doesn't end well.





	Logince hanahaki

**Author's Note:**

> Written January 21, 2018

    Logan admired Roman.

    Practically worshipped him. He knew that was unhealthy, wrong, impractical… But he could not stop.

    He wasn’t an idiot- He knew Roman made mistakes, witnessed half of them, but that didn’t change his mind.

    Roman was perfect.

    It started as a discomfort deep in his chest. Every time he thought of Roman- Deliberately putting extra ‘creative’ time in Thomas’s daily schedule, bantering with him in a video, falling asleep dreaming of impressing him -it would spike.

    One time Logan woke up earlier than normal. He stumbled downstairs, frustrated at not having been able to fall back asleep, fumbling around with the coffee pot until he successfully poured himself a cup. Roman was already awake, humming as he fluttered around the kitchen- He made breakfast for himself every morning at five a.m. Logan was tired enough to ignore that cramped discomfort in his lungs.

    He hadn’t really connected it yet. It wasn’t strong enough.

    Yet.

    Logan started to make his way to the living room to curl up in his usual chair with his coffee, when he almost ran straight into Roman. Roman’s hand shot up to grip his bicep before Logan was able to collide with him, chuckling.

    “Easy there, sleeping beauty. You need me to carry you?”

    Just as the words left his mouth, a sharp pain dug deep into the centre of Logan’s chest. He gasped, nearly dropping his coffee; The pain was strong enough to leave him lightheaded.

    Roman’s amusement faded to worry. He took Logan’s coffee and set it on the counter, and did as mentioned- He scooped Logan into his arms bridal style, which made an even larger pang assault Logan. He cried out as Roman laid him gently on the couch.

    Virgil popped into the room, eyes wide. “What’s happening?”

    Roman waved him off. “Just an ache. He’ll be fine.”

    Logan took in shallow, deep breaths, slowly, the sharp pains slowly easing into dull throbs.

    “I’ll be fine,” he managed. “Probably just… Slept on it wrong.” It didn’t escape his notice, however, that his chest felt more cramped than before.

    _A panic attack?_ No, certainly not. He didn’t feel panicked- At least, not enough to upset him.

    “That’s it,” Roman said, straightening up. “Virgil- Go make Logan some soup.” Virgil didn’t even questioned it- He scrambled out of the room and started messing about in the kitchen. Logan started to sit up, so Roman gently pushed him back by his shoulder. Wilting fire shot across Logan’s skin and he bit a scream, his eyes bulging.

    _Why why why why why?_

_Why_ Roman?!

    Roman quickly retracted his hand as Logan squeezed his eyes shut, tears building up behind his eyelids. Out of the three of them, it had to be _Roman?_

    “I’ll be fine,” Logan managed as Roman stared at him, terrified. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

    Logan spent the rest of the day laying on the couch. Patton eventually convinced Roman to leave, distracting him so Logan could get some breath. Still, Virgil didn’t leave his side the entire time, quick to find out his touch didn’t hurt. He took to kneeling in front of Logan on the floor, resting the side of his head on Logan’s stomach, closing his eyes.

    “Logan,” he murmured after about an hour of this. Logan had almost dozed off, cracking his eyes open to Virgil’s voice.

    “Mm?”

    “It’s Roman, right?”

    He let out a choked sound of surprise. “What?”

    Virgil didn’t open his eyes as he trailed two fingers down one of Logan’s lungs. “Roman. You’re in love with Roman.”

    Logan tensed up. “I… How do you know?”

    Virgil used his free hand to gently rub circles into Logan’s hipbone, forcing him to relax. “I had it.”

    Logan sat up slowly. Virgil lifted his head, blinking sleepily. “What do you mean?” Logan asked.

    Virgil shrugged, sitting cross legged on the floor. “I had it. For Thomas.”

    Logan thought back hard. He vaguely remembered a period of time where Virgil spent a significant amount of time in his room, before abruptly coming back as if nothing happened.

    “He doesn’t love you back,” Virgil muttered, looking away. “You wouldn’t have it if you did.” He sighed, reluctantly meeting Logan’s eyes. “You gotta get rid of it. It’ll kill you if you don’t.”

    Logan swallowed. “How do I…?”

    He dragged his index finger in an X over his chest. “You cut it out.”

    “And… And it’ll get rid of…?”

    Virgil shrugged. “I don’t love Thomas anymore.”

    Logan shook his head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not.”

    How could he just… _Not_ love Roman? He’d been nursing this for years now. He remembered the bubbling crush it started as; The lightheadedness, the giddiness, and nervousness. He remembered it developing, how he felt rap battling him in the vlog, the way Roman folded into his arms when he broke down crying. And he remembered falling in love with him- All the early morning coffee, all the humming, the nicknames, the soft smiles, the late nights.

    He remembered everything.

    It was part of his life now.

    To just… Cut it out? That wasn’t an option.

    “Logan,” Virgil said quietly. “Please.”

    He shook his head, struggling to his feet. “No. No, I won’t.”

    He left the room, making his way to his bedroom and slamming the door shut. He sank down against it, putting his head in his hands.

    It only got worse.

    One morning, he woke around four a.m., before the sun was fully in the sky, to rush to the bathroom without immediately knowing why. He dropped to his knees, coughing and gagging over the toilet bowl.

    It felt like stringy paper trying to climb itself up his throat. When he was done, two large, round red petals floated innocently in the water, blood turning the water pink. He blinked at it and swallowed down whatever fluids still left in his mouth.

    _That doesn’t mean anything,_ he reasoned. _It’ll pass._

    It started to hurt to think of Roman. That was new. He used to love thinking about Roman- Just being in the same room as him was both relaxing and exhilarating at once. Now it made him tired, hopeless. He locked his door and curled up in bed, occasionally coughing up flower petals that quickly increased in volume and numbers.

    Patton, Roman, and Virgil continuously knocked on the door, trying to draw him out. Patton and Roman insisted on knowing what was wrong- “Are you still sick?” “Do you need food?” “Can I help?” -while Virgil begged Logan to let him in and let him help him through it. Thomas even ventured into the mindscape at one point, rapping on the door for a solid five minutes before giving up.

    It became unbearable. He didn’t know what was worse- This physical pain or losing his love for Roman.

    He imagined it sometimes. Imagined not dedicating all his happiness to the prince, imagined being alone again. Because even though Roman and he weren’t together, even if Roman didn’t even know- He made Logan feel safe. He made Logan feel together. He kept Logan company. And he was certain he loved him back, _certain_ \- Even if it wasn’t romantically.

    He would hate himself if he couldn’t return that love.

    After a month of this, Logan was certain he’d lost his mind. He was sobbing and screaming through vomiting and the sides were begging to be let in, nearly breaking down Logan’s door.

    He was about to die.

    He thought back to Virgil. Virgil, their protector, whose protection didn’t falter after he came back from the dead. He may have cut out his love for Thomas, but did anybody notice?

    No.

    They didn’t.

    He forced himself from his blood-stained bed to his desk, easing into his chair. He rifled through the messy drawers until he found a pair of scissors.

    Maybe Virgil would be proud of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcannon where the type of flowers you throw up predicts how the relationship will turn out. It’s not said, but the flowers Logan’s throwing up are poppies


End file.
